


Don't You (Forget About Me)

by GW99



Series: The Losers Club [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Ben just wants everyone to get along, Beverly as Claire, Bill hardly stutters, Bill is a Leader(TM), Breakfast Club AU, Eddie is... Eddie, Fluff and Angst, Georgie is ALIVE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mike as Andrew, Mr. Keene is their principal, Recreational Drug Use, Richie as Bender, Stan as Brian, he hates richie, he's soft, kids being kids, no really he hates richie like he's so mean to him, richie is sad but he hides it behind anger, they smoke weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-05 11:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12793788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GW99/pseuds/GW99
Summary: Seven kids are brought together by Saturday detention. Through a series of confessions, they become closer than ever.Also known as, the Breakfast Club AU we’ve all been waiting for.





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> *heavy breathing*

It was Saturday.

Eddie made his way into the library where he would spend the next seven hours of his life. He tugged the sleeves of his white sweater down over his hands, gripping on to them for a hint of security as he opened the doors and braced himself —

for nothing. 

No one turned to look at him. He sighed out a breath of relief and did a quick once over of the room that he didn’t spend much time in.

There were three rows of tables — two long tables, six in total, with two chairs at each, facing the front — and three of the seats were already taken. He weighed his options in his mind, trying to figure out which seat would keep him hidden in the background the best despite the two back tables each having an occupant. He ended up sitting in the chair farthest from the aisle on the right side in the middle row right in front of a boy who had his head down as he read his book, curls falling into his face. Eddie ran his fingers through his own wavy hair and looked around at the other two people — one a girl with short, red hair that seemed to glow in the sunlight from the window and the other a boy of darker complexion wearing a varsity jacket.. The girl was sitting behind him to his left and the boy was sitting in the front row in the table right in front of him, though he was sitting in the seat closest to the aisle.

He looked at the clock, saw he still had ten minutes before his detention officially started, and sunk down in his chair. 

This was going to be a long day.   
  


————   
  


It was Saturday.

Richie really didn’t have anything better to do, he told himself, but he knew that wasn’t necessarily true. Sure, he wouldn’t be out there making himself a better person or some bullshit like that, but he could be out smoking, watching a movie, exploring the record store for artists he hadn’t listened to yet. He could make a whole list of things he could be doing instead of being at school, but he couldn’t do a single one of them.

He looked at the cracked watch on his wrist — really, it’s a miracle it still worked — and saw he was nearly late for his detention.

By the time he made his way inside, six other kids were there. A record, he thought with a smirk.

Most Saturdays he was here by himself, and if there were other people, it was typically only one or two. 

Must have been an exciting week at school. 

Mr. Keene was going to love this. 

He sneered when he saw his usual seat was taken by a boy he knew as the name of Stan, who seemed as if he didn’t even hear Richie come in. His head was still down as he read, and Richie glanced at the other five people. He sized them up, then decided he’d sit next to the boy practically hiding himself in his big sweater. 

He plopped down in the seat next to him, scooting his chair back and propping his feet up on the desk. 

Eddie froze, slowly looking up at the boy. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, voice quiet. But did Richie sense a bit of sass? 

He liked this boy already. He grinned, the kind of grin that used to be able to make anyone do whatever he wanted. These days, people usually just scowled. 

“Well, you see, my seat was taken by some loser,” he stabbed his thumb over his shoulder in a gesture toward the boy behind him. “I could’ve gotten him to move, but you were just too cute,” he winked then. “So I thought I’d sit by you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes despite the light dusting of pink on his cheeks. 

“Right. Okay.”

Richie looked at him for a second more, then glanced around the library at the others. He knew their names, and he knew certain things about them because of rumors or classes or overheard conversations. 

He knew Mike Hanlon because he was the star quarterback on the football team. He had almost single-handedly won their last game — just the night before — and had almost beaten the school record. He was dating a girl named Vanessa, who was so beautiful that it seemed to make her glow. (Richie didn’t know much about her, really, though he’d heard people talking about her. No one seemed to have a word to say against her.) Mike wasn’t the stereotypical football player; he was kindhearted and smiled at everyone, though he didn’t look to be smiling much now. 

Ben Hanscom was a boy who used to be known as The New Kid. Richie could vividly remember Bowers threatening him at least once a day, likely even more. He had been overweight until he’d joined the track team, but he only stayed on it for a year. He was a little taller than Richie remembered, and had grown into his body a bit more over the years. He had overheard teachers talk about Ben, saying how he had so much potential to become someone. (Richie had never understood that. How could he  _ become _ someone when he was  _ already _ someone? What were these superficial standards everyone held high school students up to?) Richie was almost rooting for him.

Almost. 

He knew Beverly Marsh because everyone knew Beverly Marsh. In middle school, she’d been bullied by some of the girls who had been considered popular, but as they grew older and Greta Bowie moved away, Beverly quickly found a group of friends who brought her into popularity. There had been a time -- all the way back when they were in their early teens -- when Richie was sure he’d seen some bruises on her wrists. He never said anything about it, but he never forgot it. She was strikingly beautiful, and Richie might have even taken a shot at her if he didn’t discover his own sexuality at the age of 15. As it was, he thought the cute boy next to him would be much more suitable for him.

Speaking of, Eddie Kaspbrak was someone Richie didn’t know too much about. He knew Eddie liked to stick to himself, he knew Eddie wore sweaters and overalls and jeans with flowers ironed onto the legs and he had a precious little backpack and he was so cute and small and -- 

Well, Richie didn’t know  _ a lot  _ about Eddie, but what he did know, he liked. He had gone to school with Eddie since they were in kindergarden, and he remembered that the smaller boy was always out of school for medical reasons. When Richie saw him, he always looked fine, so he couldn’t help but wonder what it was. 

As it was, they lived in a town where news travelled fast. When Eddie had stormed out of his house after a screaming match with his mother, the neighbors had found out and gossiped to others about what happened.

That’s how everyone found out that little Eddie Kaspbrak’s mother had been feeding him lies, giving him placebos in place of actual medications. Eddie no longer wore his fanny pack full of pills, but he kept his inhaler in his backpack which he carried almost everywhere since it was so light 

_ (and cute) _

even though he didn’t go many places other than school and his home.

Richie’s own mother had commented on it one night at dinner, saying that “such a good boy shouldn’t be stuck with someone so crazy.” Richie could hardly feel bad for him because at least Eddie’s mother paid attention to him. 

It was then that Richie realized he was staring, so he quickly looked away and crossed his arms over his chest as he cleared his throat. His jean jacket tightened around his shoulders -- it was at least a size too small, maybe even two -- but he ignored it.

He knew Stanley Uris because they used to be in the same classes until Richie’s behavior problems prevented him from taking the classes that challenged him. He remembered Stanley was smart, almost too smart for a high school student, sometimes even correcting the teacher when he or she stated an incorrect fact. He was nearly as tall as Richie, but his demeanor was so quiet and shy that he seemed so much smaller than Richie, who was bigger than life itself at times. It was a wonder that Stan didn’t have back problems with how he was hunched over his book. Richie could just barely see that the book had a picture or two on each page surrounded by tiny words, and the pictures were of birds -- different types that Richie couldn’t name. One was red and the other was a spotted brown. 

Fucking _ birds. _

Bill Denbrough, out of all the kids in the room, had changed the most over the last few years. He used to have a terrible stutter, but it had quelled to where he only stumbled over certain consonants or particularly difficult words, specifically words he didn’t use very often. He was handsome, Richie could admit, in a classical sort of way. He was a natural leader, taking on a role in the student council and leading the student section at sports games. His younger brother had gone missing when they were in middle school, and he hadn’t been found for six months. When they did find him, he was fine, if a little underweight and dehydrated. Considering what had happened to other kids in Derry, they were lucky. Richie felt for the boy, sure. If he had a little brother, he was sure he’d be distraught if he went missing. 

He counted himself lucky that his parents had stopped at one kid. 

Glancing at the clock, he heard footsteps walking closer to the library. The heavy door swung open then slammed back shut, but Richie was so used to it that he didn’t even flinch. He couldn’t say the same for Eddie.

He chuckled as the boy next to him jumped in his seat and sat up straight as Mr. Keene walked in.

“Mr. Tozier,” he said with a sadistic little smile. Richie simply grinned back. “Couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“And miss seeing your smiling face? Never.”

Mr. Keene glared for a moment before he glanced around at the others.

“You’ve got some friends this week, it seems. You’ll have to show them how it’s done, won’t you?”

Richie shrugged a shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that he could see Eddie staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Mr. Keene moved on soon after, too impatient to keep waiting for a response from Richie.

“You’re not to move from these seats,” the teacher started, slowly pacing back and forth in front of the tables. “Lunch is at 12:30, bathroom break immediately after. You’ll be writing an essay today talking about who you think you are. I don’t want to hear a word from any of you. Especially you, Tozier.”

Stan was already pulling out his binder and a pen from his backpack -- Richie almost scoffed because who brings a backpack to Saturday detention? -- but Richie was already thinking about all the ways he could avoid doing this paper.

“2000 words due by the time you leave. Mr. Tozier, do you think you can do that?”

Richie rolled his eyes but nodded, ready for Mr. Keene to leave so that he could strike up a conversation with Eddie. Maybe he could get another sassy remark out of him before the day was over.

“Do you even  _ know  _ 2000 words, son?”

Richie’s facade cracked then and he glared coldly at the teacher up front.

“Don’t call me son,” he grumbled, and he felt Eddie shift ever so slightly -- not away from him like Richie had expected, but closer to him, as if to comfort him. Richie’s body relaxed but his glare didn’t.

Mr. Keene smirked again and stood up a little straighter.

“I’ll be back to check on you soon.”

With that, he was walking out and letting the door slam behind him once more.

“Fucking asshole,” Richie muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tipped his head back to look at the ceiling.

“I’ve never liked him anyway,” Eddie’s voice came as a whisper. Richie almost gave himself whiplash from turning to look at him so quickly. “Nobody does.” His lips -- pink, pink lips -- curled up into the tiniest of smiles and he shrugged his shoulder -- a barely there movement that Richie almost missed -- as he looked over at him and made eye contact.

Richie almost forgot to reply, looking into those big brown eyes.

“Who knew? Little Eddie Spaghetti  _ can _ be mean!” Richie laughed one good time, the sound almost too loud in the nearly silent room.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Richie,” Eddie said as his cheeks darkened once more.

“Such dirty words coming from such a pretty mouth,” Richie shook his head, his mouth a thin line though his eyes still sparkled with laughter. “A damn shame.”

Eddie couldn’t come up with anything to say,

_ (pretty mouth pretty mouth pretty mouth) _

but it turns out he didn’t need to say anything because there was a voice speaking up from behind them.

“Actually, Mr. Keene said to stay quiet and work on our essays and… you’re being very loud.” The latter part of his sentence was spoken while looking at Richie, whose eyes flickered down to the paper that was already written on on Stan’s desk.

“You’re the only one doing the goddamn paper,” Richie stated. “I’ve got better things to do.”

“Like what?” Stan asked, raising a brow as he twirled his pen in his hand.

“Like talk to Eddie baby here,” he grinned, looking at Eddie just long enough to wink

_ (Eddie didn’t blush, he swears it; he just really liked hearing “Eddie baby” fall from Richie’s lips and -- oh god, he  _ winked _ ) _

before he was looking at Stan again. “How rude of you to interrupt.”

Stan glared at Richie but continued writing his paper, effectively dropping the subject.

When Richie looked over at Eddie again, the boy was no longer looking at him. He would have been disappointed, except he saw the extra pink in his cheeks and he  _ knew _ it was because of him.

Somehow, that made it better. 


	2. ii

Richie had been mistaken.

Stan wasn’t the only one to try to work on his paper; in fact, Eddie and Bill both had asked him for a piece of paper so they could do it as well. When Bill had gotten up to grab a pen from behind the library counter, he had gotten Eddie one too, so now there were three students trying to work on their assignment.

That didn’t mean they were getting very far. Stan’s pen hadn’t stopped moving since they’d gotten in there, and Bill seemed to be making at least a little progress, but Eddie had only written a single line.

Richie would know because he kept looking over at his paper, trying to find out more about the boy sitting next to him.

To be fair, Richie was sure he was making it rather hard to stay focused. He  _ knew  _ he was being distracting, but he didn’t know how to make himself stop. 

Since their last interaction where Richie had called him  _ Eddie baby, _ they hadn’t spoken, but Eddie quickly realized that Richie had a hard time staying still. He was constantly fidgeting: tapping his fingers to a fast beat on the table, humming along to an unfamiliar tune, propping his feet up on the table just to untie and tie his shoes over and over again, making noises, and trying to read Eddie’s paper.

_ Mr. Keene, _

_ I’m glad you asked who I think I am. If I’m being honest, I don’t  _

was all he had written, and even that had been erased and rewritten until it was perfect.

The sounds and movement coming from directly beside him were setting him on edge, making it impossible to come up with even the very end of the sentence he’d already started. He didn’t want to seem rude by telling Richie to  _ shut up and sit still,  _ but he also didn’t want another Saturday detention the week after. His mother would probably have an aneurysm. 

He had opened his mouth to say something when Richie spun around in his chair to face Stan for the second time that morning.

“Stanley,” Richie said, frowning when he didn’t even glance up at him. “Stan. Stan the man. Stanley --”

_ “What?”  _ Stanley finally asked, dropping his pencil and looking up at Richie. “What do you want? I’m  _ working.” _

“Ah, you got all day for that,” Richie waved him off with a smile. Eddie wondered if Richie just needed some kind of attention all the time. Being his friend must be exhausting.

_ (Eddie would be a good friend to Richie, he swore it. He could give him attention. Why did Richie turn to Stan instead of him?) _

“Tell me about your birds,” Richie said, gesturing toward Stan’s book he had previously been reading.

“Oh.” Stan blinked once, sitting up straighter and pulling his book in front of him, paper forgotten. He opened it to the page he’d left off on.

“I’m reading about cardinals now,” he pointed to a picture of a cardinal, bright red and almost shining on the page. “Beautiful, isn’t he? The males are the pretty red ones, but the females are brown. It’s like that with a lot of birds because the males have to fight for the female’s attention, so they need to be really bright. They love to sing, did you know? The females can sit in their nests and sing and that communicates to the males that they need food.”

Richie was almost fascinated with how passionate Stan seemed about his birds. When he realized that he was thinking something almost  _ fond  _ about someone, he knew that had to change. He didn’t have the time or energy to start feeling fond for someone after all.

“They mate for life too. They --”

“Birds are fucking stupid, I think,” Richie interrupted. The way Stan’s face fell from excitement to disappointment --  _ shame,  _ even -- sent a pang of guilt through Richie’s chest, but it was too late to go back now. “I mean, what’s so nice about them? All they do is fly around and sing. How much more do you need to know?”

_ “Richie!”  _ Eddie gasped, nudging him with his elbow. Richie didn’t even have to look over at him to know he was giving him one of those disappointed frowns.

He almost apologized, but then he heard someone behind him speak up.

“Yeah, that’s enough,” Bill said, standing up from his seat and walking over. “Leave him alone, Richie.”

Richie looked at Eddie, then at Bill, then he laughed.

“Are you serious? You can’t possibly think  _ birds  _ are that fucking interesting to hear about. I mean, come on,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Then you shouldn’t have asked him to tell you about them,” Bill stated, voice calm as he spoke to Richie. 

 

Eddie got up from his seat as well and moved to the seat beside Stan, who still seemed crestfallen. He rested a hand on his arm and gave a comforting smile. Bill and Richie still bickered in front of them, and Eddie vaguely recognized that Mike had joined in as well.

“I think it’s nice that you know so much about them,” Eddie said softly, and Stan perked up just a little bit.

“Do you really?” He asked.

“Yeah. I didn’t know cardinals mated for life.” Eddie looked down at the picture of the female cardinal and smiled. “When I was little, my mom used to tell me that when a cardinal showed up in your yard, that was a loved one visiting you from heaven,” he recalled.

Stan smiled as well and looked down at the picture. He supposed that if a loved one was going to come back as a bird, he would want them to come back as a cardinal. Bright, beautiful, and bold.

 

“What’s your problem, man?” Mike spoke a little louder. When Eddie looked up, he saw that Bill, Richie, and Mike were all standing now and things had clearly escalated. Eddie was more shocked that Mike was getting involved since he knew how kind the boy usually was. He would later find out that the one thing that pissed the boy off was any kind of bullying or injustice. That was why he stood up for Stan now.

“My  _ problem? _ ” Richie asked. “I --”

“Can you all just shut the fuck up for  _ two seconds?”  _ Came Beverly’s voice. 

Eddie was getting so unbelievably tired of everyone interrupting each other. He hated being surrounded by loud noises and so many distractions, and it was making his head pound and his heart race. He stretched his leg out and hooked his foot around the strap of his backpack, pulling it toward him because he knew he’d be using his inhaler soon if things kept going how they were going.

The three boys turned to look at Beverly, who had just spoken for the first time that day.

“Listen, just stay out of this,” Richie started, but Beverly glared at him. She wouldn’t back down just because some boy told her to.

“No,  _ you _ listen,” she snapped. “We all know you’ve got some problem that you don’t wanna face, right? That’s why you’re here every weekend. We’ve all got shit to deal with; you’re not the only one. But goddamnit, if Stan likes birds, then let him like birds. Why do  _ you  _ get to humiliate someone like that? What makes you so much better?”

Richie stood silent for many moments, though his glare never lessened.

“Ah, fuck this,” he grumbled, sitting down in his seat. Within a minute, Bill and Mike had gone back to their respective seats.

They all sat in silence.

Eddie could hear the clock ticking, so he put his head down in his hands and closed his eyes, counting the  _ tick tick tick _ s in hopes of calming himself down before he’d need to use his inhaler.

Stan looked over at him with a small frown, pulling out his paper again and writing a tiny  _ are you okay?  _ in the corner so he could slide it under Eddie’s arms where he could see it.

Eddie nodded, but he wasn’t totally sure he meant it.

“I could go for a cigarette,” Beverly sighed, breaking the silence.

Richie breathed out a laugh.

“How ‘bout it? Princess needs a fucking cigarette,” he chuckled.

“Don’t call me princess,” Beverly rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her seat.

“Alright,” Richie raised his hands in surrender. “I mean, in case you were wondering, I don’t have a cigarette. But I do have something better.”

This got everyone’s attention. When Richie glanced around, he saw that everyone else was looking at him, though Eddie’s eyes seemed a bit glazed.

“I may or may not have… some weed,” he admitted. Beverly’s eyes lit up and so did Ben’s -- which really surprised everyone because who would have expected Ben, of all people, to get excited over some weed? 

“No way,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “No. Mr. Keene will  _ kill  _ us. He’ll call our parents and - and if my mom thinks I smoked weed, she’ll have me in the emergency room getting tested for God knows what.”

“Mr. Keene won’t be calling home because we won’t be getting caught,” Richie smiled, the same carefree smile as earlier on in the day.

“Where is it?” Ben asked then, and Richie seemed overjoyed that  _ someone  _ finally asked.

“It’s in my locker,” he replied. “But I’d be happy to go get it… if Eddie comes with me.”

Eddie looked at Richie, eyes wider than ever before, then he looked at the others.

“You’ve gotta be kidding, right?” He waited for an answer for a few seconds, but nothing came. “No! I’m not going,” he said firmly.

“Oh, come on, Eddie,” Beverly urged. “It’ll be fine. We’ll cover for you if Mr. Keene comes in to check on us.”

Eddie could see how eager she was, her eyes wide and bright as she leaned over the table just slightly to get a little closer to him, so he huffed out a breath with a shake of his head.

“Can’t fucking believe this.  _ Fine.  _ I’ll go with you. But I’m not smoking anything,” he said firmly.

“You don’t have to, Eddie baby,” Richie smiled.

Eddie wasn’t totally sure, but he thought that maybe Richie was going to be the death of him.


	3. iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well... this turned out to be a monster of a chapter.  
> it's kind of a filler? but it's also the longest chapter so far? anyway...

They all came up with a plan.

After lunch when Mr. Keene was sure to be in his office again, Richie and Eddie would sneak out the back doors of the library and head down the hall to Richie’s locker. They would get the weed and be back in the library within five minutes, Richie assured him, but Eddie was sure something would go wrong. No matter how much he planned for things, something always went wrong, and it always ended in a disaster for him.

He pulled out his inhaler and gave it a quick little puff, breathing in the mist until he could feel his chest loosening up. It wasn’t asthma so much anymore, but anxiety. Eddie used his inhaler because he knew it could quell the perpetual anxiousness inside of him so that it was bearable.

Stan smiled encouragingly at him and Richie just stared.

Eddie cleared his throat and looked down so he wouldn’t have to see those eyes any more.

The scheming stopped when they heard footsteps coming again. This time, Eddie was able to brace himself for the loud slamming of the door, but he still flinched slightly.

“Lunch,” Mr. Keene declared, glancing over the kids with a furrow in his brow. “Mr. Kaspbrak, you’ve moved,” he stated. “I told you you were not to move from your seat.”

“I - I know,” Eddie stuttered, cursing himself mentally at how nervous he sounded. His voice was shaky, but what could he say? He hated when people scolded him or pointed him out in front of everyone. 

“I made him move,” Richie raised his hand slightly. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat and he wondered why Richie was so easily taking the blame for something that hadn’t  _ really  _ been his fault. “He was trying to write his paper but I kept distracting him. It’s my fault.”

Everyone in the room looked shocked, especially Eddie and Mr. Keene, but their principal just nodded his head.

“Figures. Can’t imagine who’d want to sit beside you anyway,” he said. “No more moving seats, you hear me? Any of you. You’ve got an hour for lunch.”

“Wait,” Ben spoke up then. “Can we eat in the cafeteria? We’re not… really allowed to eat in the library,” he pointed out.

“I’m the principal here and I’ll say where you can and can’t eat,” Mr. Keene said, voice sharp and cold as he spoke to the boy. “You’ll be eating in here and that’s final.”

“I don’t have a drink,” Eddie spoke quickly, his eyes wide. “I - I thought I’d be able to buy one because we’d eat in the cafeteria so I don’t have one.”

Mr. Keene shrugged a shoulder. 

“Should’ve planned ahead, Mr. Kaspbrak.”

Eddie couldn’t fucking  _ breathe  _ because he hated when things didn’t go the way he’d planned. He planned things out so that he wouldn’t stress about what was going to happen, but when plans changed, he had no choice but to worry.

“He really needs a drink,” Richie said. What was it with Richie standing up for him today? “If he doesn’t get one, he gets real dehydrated and just starts, like, puking all over the place.” Eddie nearly gagged at the thought of vomiting --  _ in public,  _ no less -- but he didn’t dare interrupt. 

“I’ve seen it,” Mike said then. “It can get real bad.”

“You know what? I’ll even go get him a drink,” Richie decided, standing up from his seat.

_ “Sit down,”  _ Mr. Keene snapped. Richie sat back down, though he did so with a satisfied little grin. “Mr. Uris and Mr. Denbrough. Go get Eddie a drink. Anybody else need one?” When Ben and Mike raised their hands, Mr. Keene sighed and ran a hand over his face. “God damnit. Just get one for everybody.”

“Thanks, Mr. Keene,” Eddie said quietly, gripping his hands tightly enough in his lap that he thought maybe there might be little finger shaped bruises on them when he let go. 

“Don’t thank me. Just don’t forget it next time.”

Eddie cleared his throat and glanced over at Stan, who was getting ready to stand up by placing his hands on the desk, before he looked at Mr. Keene again.

“No offense, sir, but I hope there won’t be a next time.”

Richie put his head down on his desk and Eddie could just barely hear his breathy laughter. He smiled at that reaction though it quickly fell when Mr. Keene turned to Richie instead.

“Oh, did you think that was funny, Tozier?” He asked. 

Richie looked up at him, laughter still evident on his face as he nodded his head.

“Fucking hilarious,” he said. “Little Eddie Spaghetti’s got some balls.” He spared a glance over his shoulder and grinned at Eddie.

“Maybe you can come back next week and tell me how funny you thought it was,” Mr. Keene said, and Eddie’s previous happiness faded completely.

“No -- wait, Mr. Keene, I --” Eddie started only to be interrupted by Richie.

“I’d love to!” Richie said, voice almost too loud in the room. 

“Well, if you’re that happy about it, maybe I should make it  _ two  _ weeks.”

“Well, damn, that sounds great. Why don’t you bump it up to three? A whole  _ month?  _ After that, I’ll have to check my calendar. I’m a busy boy, you know,” Richie said, his voice colder than Eddie had ever heard it, even when he had been snapping at Stan earlier.

“At this rate, I’ll have you for the rest of your pathetic life,” Mr. Keene said, that sadistic little smirk back on his face. “At least it’ll keep you from causing trouble out in town. We all know you’re nothing but a criminal, Tozier. You’re probably the one taking all those kids --”

Bill tensed up where he sat.

_ “Shut up!”  _ Richie yelled, and Eddie might have been projecting, but he thought that maybe underneath all the anger in Richie’s voice, he heard something that sounded almost  _ broken.  _

Mr. Keene chuckled.

“Oh, is that a soft spot for you, Richie?” He looked as if he had something else to say, but after glancing around at the others for a moment, he changed his mind. “Eat your lunches. I’ll be back in an hour.”

With that, he walked out, and Eddie was left staring at Richie, who didn’t so much as move. Eddie wondered if he even breathed for those first few moments.

“I -- Bill, we should go get the drinks,” Stan said shakily, standing up with a hand bracing himself on the table. Bill nodded his head and stood up as well, both of them walking out the back doors of the library together.

 

When they left, the other five were silent.

Beverly was the one who broke it. She didn’t  _ say  _ anything, but she pulled out her lunch from her bag. She had brought an actual meal, it seemed to Eddie, of takeout from a restaurant he didn’t recognize the name of. He pulled out his own brown paper bag, taking out everything he had, which was just a sandwich cut into two halves, an apple, and a small thermos full of the soup his mother had made the night before. He went to take a bite of his apple when he noticed that Richie still hadn’t moved, not even to get his own lunch out. Eddie gathered his things up and moved back to his original seat beside Richie.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” He asked, keeping his voice quiet even though Ben and Beverly were conversing quietly on the other side of the room and Mike was too busy working on his big lunch to really pay attention to them.

Richie shrugged a shoulder, taking a deep breath through his nose before finally looking over at Eddie.

“‘M not hungry,” he mumbled.

Eddie nodded his head and took a bite of his apple. He noticed that Richie was looking at his sandwich and how he hadn’t pulled out any food for himself and, well --

Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He set his apple on the table and pulled his sandwich out of the ziploc bag, holding one half out for Richie to take.

“I’m not gonna be able to eat it,” he admitted, even though he was feeling rather hungry. He nodded when Richie just stared at him, then smiled when the sandwich was taken from him.

“Thanks,” Richie almost whispered, lips curling up into a small smile before he was turning to face the front again. He took a bite of the sandwich, and Eddie didn’t look away until after he’d swallowed it.

He hid his smile behind another bite of his apple.

 

\-----

 

When they’d walked out of the library, they were still quiet.

“Do you ever feel bad for him?” Stan asked quietly, his arms crossed over his chest as he walked beside Bill to the cafeteria.

“Who? R-Richie?” He asked, glancing over at him. He shrugged a shoulder. “Sometimes, I guess. If he’d shut up, he might actually get a weekend off.”

Stan shrugged as well.

“I don’t know. Part of me thinks maybe he can’t help it.” Bill didn’t respond, so Stan tried to start another conversation. “Your brother,” he said. “He goes here now, doesn’t he?”

Bill couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of his brother. Sure, he could be annoying sometimes, but he loved his brother more than anything else.

“Yeah, he’s a freshman this year. It’s kinda crazy,” he breathed out a small laugh. “I’m a senior and he’s a freshman and it’s just… time flies, you know?”

Stan nodded his head, even though he didn’t quite understand what it must be like to watch your little sibling grow up right in front of your eyes. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. 

Bill shoved his hands in his pockets, and his elbow accidentally nudged against Stan’s.

“You’re really s-smart, aren’t you?” Bill asked him. “A g-good student and stuff.”

Stan blushed lightly and nodded his head.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then what are you doing here?” He asked, looking over at him.

Stan looked down at his feet and shrugged a shoulder.

“I don’t know. It’s a long story,” he mumbled.

Bill nodded his head.

“I get it,” he said quietly. “I, uh…” he chuckled and shook his head. “I got into a fight, believe it or not.”

Stan’s eyes widened as he looked at Bill.

“Seriously? A fight?” He asked, and Bill nodded.

“Yeah. You know that k-kid Henry Bowers?”

Stan shuddered.

“Everybody knows Henry Bowers.” And that was true. If Henry Bowers hadn’t bullied you, then you knew him because he failed seven times or because he had beaten someone else up or because he was getting into a fight in the hallway.

Everyone knew Henry Bowers.

Their current conversation paused as they approach add the vending machine. They debated on whether to get sodas or waters — Stan thought that waters would keep them satisfied for longer but Bill argued that teenage boys don’t really care for that; Cokes taste better.

They ended up getting cokes, and they made their way back to the library, the conversation picking up where it had left off. 

“I heard him t-talking about someone and I couldn’t listen to him s-say anything else about them, so I said something to him. He told me to fuck off, and I just,” he started laughing then at how ridiculous the whole situation was. He was sitting there telling a stranger his whole story about how he’d gotten into a fight with his childhood bully. “I just fucking punched him. Chipped his tooth, I think.” 

Stan started laughing as well because it wasn’t every day that Henry Bowers got punched in the face.

“I hate that I missed it,” he said, grinning up at Bill.

“Mrs. Harris said I had Saturday detention, but I think it’s the best earned detention in history.”

Stan couldn’t help but agree, really.

 

\-----

 

Eddie looked up when the door opened, half expecting it to be Mr. Keene again, but it was Stan and Bill coming back. Stan handed him the coke he’d gotten him and Eddie thanked him with a smile.

He was more than a little stunned when Bill grabbed his things and moved to sit beside Stan at the back table, but he smiled knowingly at Stan’s blush. He nudged Richie.

“Look,” he whispered, and Richie turned around to look at the two who were now engaged in another conversation. “I bet Stan asks him out before the end of the day.”

Richie scoffed, and Eddie panicked for a moment because he hadn’t really considered the fact that maybe Richie was homophobic, and if that was the case, then Eddie might be sick.

“No way. Bill’s making the first move,” he said, and Eddie smiled.

“Alright, what do I get if I win?” He asked, looking up at Richie. They had finished eating by then and were more than happy to just sit and talk while they waited for Mr. Keene to come back.

“What do you want?” Richie asked, and Eddie pretended to think about it.

“Ice cream,” he decided. “You have to buy me ice cream after detention today.” He waited until Richie had nodded his agreement before he continued. “What do  _ you _ want if you win?”

“A date with your mom,” he said. “I know she misses me.”

“Oh,  _ gross,”  _ Eddie groaned. Richie laughed, and Eddie couldn’t help but smile despite himself. 

It’s funny, Eddie thought. He’d just met Richie a few hours ago and things felt so  _ easy  _ around him.

 

\-----

 

“I don’t like this,” Eddie whispered harshly as he slowly shut the library door. It hardly made a sound because of how gently he closed it, but as soon as it was shut, he turned to Richie, who was already walking down the hall. He had to jog to catch up with him, glaring at his back the entire way up. “Hey,” he whispered again. “Are you listening to me?” He glanced back over his shoulder to ensure that Mr. Keene hadn’t somehow heard them.

“You don’t have to whisper,” Richie said, his voice just as loud as it usually was. “Mr. Keene’s office is like halfway across the school. He won’t hear us.”

“You don’t know that!” Eddie whisper-yelled. Richie took a sharp turn to the left, going down a different hallway.

“Come on, Eds, relax a bit,” he said, draping his arm over Eddie’s shoulder. The smaller boy huffed and shrugged off his arm even though he kinda liked having the warmth there. “I won’t let you get in trouble.”

This time, when Richie put his arm over his shoulders again, Eddie didn’t shrug it off.

 

“How long do you think they’ll be?” Ben asked, turning in his chair so he was sitting sideways because he wanted to be able to easily see everyone.

“There’s no telling,” Mike answered, turning to face them as well. “Have you seen how close they’ve been today? Two bucks says Richie didn’t have any weed and he just wanted to get Eddie alone.”

Ben shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll take that bet. He probably does have weed hidden in his -- wait, do you hear that?” He asked, looking toward the library door where he could hear footsteps. He hoped and prayed that it was just Richie and Eddie returning, but they were never so lucky.

Mr. Keene barged in, walking to the front of the room and doing a quick onceover. 

“Where the hell did Tozier and Kaspbrak go?” He asked Beverly. He knew from experience that if he asked the whole room, no one would answer; singling someone out gave him the results he wanted.

“You mean they’re not here?” She asked, looking around. “I didn’t even notice they’d left.”

“Don’t play with me, girl, or I’ll give your daddy a call and tell him what you’ve been up to,” Mr. Keene threatened.

Beverly tensed for a second before she wiped any hint of panic off of her face.

“Richie had to pee,” she muttered, sinking down just a little bit in her chair. “Eddie walked him there.”

“And no one thought to tell me?” He asked, and Beverly shrugged, looking away from him. She was obviously done with the conversation, so Ben took a chance and jumped in.

“They went to ask you, but you weren’t in your office,” he said. It was the first thing that had come to his mind, but as soon as he said it, he was hit with worry. What if Mr. Keene hadn’t left his office at all? Then he would know that they were lying, and Eddie and Richie would be in more trouble than they already were in.

But Mr. Keene nodded as if this made sense.

“I step out for two seconds,” he grumbled under his breath, not even bothering to finish the sentence. “I’m going to find them. The rest of you  _ stay put.” _

 

“Why do you push Mr. Keene so much?” Eddie asked once their conversation lulled. “I mean, you can’t possibly enjoy being here so often.”

Richie’s arm had long since fallen from Eddie’s shoulder, but their hands brushed as they walked. For a while, Eddie thought that maybe he shouldn’t have said anything because Richie didn’t reply to him. They stopped at his locker and Richie opened it up.

“I don’t like being at home,” he admitted. This surprised Eddie because he hadn’t expected such a reply. He’d almost been expecting a joke or for Richie to brush him off, but he had gotten an answer that almost made his heart stop. Richie didn’t even look at him, too busy digging through his locker for the little baggie he kept hidden.

“Why not?” Eddie asked, quieter now. Richie pulled out the little bag and closed his locker, finally --  _ finally -- _ looking at Eddie again.

“You’re not the only one with a shit family,” Richie said simply. Eddie’s cheeks flushed because  _ of course  _ Richie knew about what had happened with his mother. Everyone in Derry knew, it seemed like. He knew Richie didn’t want to talk about it because of his short answers, but they stood there for a few seconds more, just looking at each other. Eddie opened his mouth to say something.

“Sh,” Richie said, the sound short as he looked back over his shoulder. “Mr. Keene is coming,” he said, looking back down at Eddie, then at the bag in his hand. 

“What are you -  _ what the fuck?”  _ Eddie squealed as Richie shoved the little baggie into Eddie’s pants. 

“It’ll be safe there,” Richie said, smiling in a way that almost seemed reassuring to Eddie. “Go back to the library. I’ll distract him.”

“Wait, Richie --” Eddie said, grabbing Richie’s arm as the boy went to turn around and take off.

“What?” Richie asked.

Eddie paused, not sure what he wanted to say. He had a lot that he could have said, but he stuck to a simple “be careful.” Richie grinned.

“Always am, baby,” he said with a wink before he was turning and running down the hall in the direction they had just come. As he ran, Eddie could hear his voice yelling out the lyrics to a familiar song and he couldn’t help but let out a small giggle as he took the other way back to the library. He could still hear Richie’s voice belting out  _ “It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you. There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever -”  _ and it cut off suddenly, replaced by a loud laugh.

 

When Eddie got back to the library, Ben was the first one to notice that he came alone.

“Where’s Richie?” He asked, standing up and approaching Eddie.

“Mr. Keene -- he came to find us, I guess. Richie took off one way and distracted him while I came back,” Eddie explained, heart beating fast in his chest as he told the story. 

There was silence for a second.

“Do you think he’ll be in too much trouble?” Beverly asked, and Eddie turned to face her.

“I don’t know. Probably,” he said quietly. 

They heard footsteps again, so they all rushed back to their seats, Eddie having to readjust a few times before the baggie wasn’t too uncomfortable in his pants. He’d forgotten to move it into his backpack, so he would have to deal with it.

“Look who I found,” Mr. Keene said, nearly dragging Richie in beside him with a hand gripping the collar of his jean jacket. Richie was still smiling. “Get your stuff,” he demanded, shoving Richie over to his table. Richie caught himself before he stumbled too much with a hand on the table, smiling crookedly at Eddie before looking back up at Mr. Keene.

“I don’t  _ have  _ any stuff to gather,” he said, gesturing to the place he’d been sitting which had nothing of Richie’s.

“Even better,” Mr. Keene smirked. “Looks like the rest of you will have to do without Mr. Tozier’s presence for the rest of your detention,” he said, his hand grabbing at Richie’s collar once again to pull him up straight. “Since you can’t seem to keep yourself or your little  _ friends  _ out of trouble, I’ll be taking you somewhere else.”

This made Richie’s smile fall off almost completely because he hadn’t been expecting to be moved so suddenly. He’d had dozens of Saturday detentions but they’d always been in the library, never anywhere else.

“No, wait -- Mr. Keene, it was my --” Eddie tried to protest, not wanting Richie to have to get into any unnecessary trouble for them.

“Save it, kid,” Mr. Keene cut him off, pointing a finger down at Eddie, who was now nearly gasping for breath. Stan was already digging through Eddie’s backpack for his inhaler. “Take it from me. This kid is not worth your trouble,” he warned. “You’ve got potential. Don’t try to get in trouble for him.”

Eddie’s heart broke when he saw how Richie winced, but he didn’t say anything. He took his inhaler as Stan handed it to him and didn’t look away from Mr. Keene as he puffed at it twice.

“There’s no need to be so mean to him,” he finally spoke up again. 

Mr. Keene laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. No, it was the kind of laugh that was almost  _ cold,  _ and it sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Didn’t realize you had to get your little  _ boyfriend  _ to stand up for you. Can’t do it yourself?” He asked, his voice scarily quiet as he spoke to Richie. 

Nobody dared to say anything else as Mr. Keene led Richie out of the room. Eddie sniffed once, glaring at his retreating back until the door had shut. The other students looked at each other, but no one knew what to say while Eddie tried his hardest not to cry. 

After a minute, Eddie wiped his eyes and stood up, reaching down into his pants.

“Whoa, what the hell are you doing?” Mike asked, holding a hand up as if he were about to stop Eddie until the boy pulled out the little bag. 

“I’ve never really been the one for smoking,” he admitted. “But I could use _ something _ right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos wrap Richie Tozier up in a blanket and kiss his forehead.  
> Your comments smoke with Eddie.


	4. iv

Richie was taken downstairs where students weren’t typically allowed to go. He stumbled a few times while walking down the stairs because Mr. Keene was pulling him down by his jacket. Once they reached a room that looked a little too much like a janitor’s closet for Richie’s taste, he was practically thrown in.

“You’ll stay here and clean for the rest of the day,” Mr. Keene said, but Richie didn’t even try to get up from where he had landed on the floor. He did sit up, his back against the crowded shelves behind him. Mr. Keene smirked. “Look at me,” he demanded, waiting until Richie was looking up at him again. “I didn’t know you were a faggot.”

Richie flinched at the harsh use of the word.

“I expected it from the Kaspbrak boy. I mean, look at him,” he scoffed, and Richie glared.

“Don’t fucking talk about him,” he spat. Mr. Keene stepped closer and leaned down so that he was close to Richie’s face.

“Oh, is he a soft spot for you?” He said, voice barely over a whisper. “Hate to break it to you, Tozier, but he’s nothing but a faggot, and so are you.” Richie’s hands were trembling on the floor beside him. He wanted nothing more than to  _hurt_  Mr. Keene. He knew he deserved every harsh word he was given, but Eddie deserved none of them. Eddie deserved  _more_ , and Richie knew that he shouldn’t even try because he deserved more than what Richie could give him. But a selfish part of him told him to try anyway because he  _wanted_  Eddie; he wanted to make him happy and tell him all the soft things he deserved to hear.

“Leave him out of this,” Richie spoke slowly through his teeth. “This is between me and you.”

Mr. Keene’s smirk never faltered.

“Does he know who you are,  _Richie?_ ” He asked. “Who you  _really_  are?”

Richie didn’t answer because he knew it was useless. Mr. Keene, realizing he wouldn’t get a response, stood up straight and walked out, locking the door behind him.

He sat there moping for a while, thinking about what Mr. Keene had said. Eddie didn’t know who he really was, and yeah, maybe he would find Richie disgusting when he found out, but that didn’t mean he wanted to give up. He should, he knew that, because Eddie deserved someone who could care for him more than Richie would be able to. Richie had spent so much of his life pushing people away, purposely being an asshole so no one would get too close, that he wasn’t sure he knew how to have a healthy relationship anymore. It wasn’t like he had a good example at home. He let his head fall back against the shelves, tipping it up just a little and -- he saw the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He saw an escape.

\----

“A grasshopper walks into a bar,” Richie mumbled, trying to keep himself as light as possible as he crawled through the air ducts. He was going by memory and only hoped he’d end up in the library. “The bartender says ‘Hey, we’ve got a drink named after you.’” He paused, breath catching in his throat when the ducts gave a precarious creak beneath him. He swallowed hard, approaching the vent and peeking through with a small smile when he saw that he’d made it to the library. “The grasshopper smiles and says,” he pushed at the vent until one corner popped out, then slowly slid it to the side. “‘You got a drink named Gary?’” He put his feet down first, hands planted on the edge of the vent as he slowly lifted himself down. He made it about halfway down before his hands slipped and he fell the rest of the way out, crashing much louder than he’d expected.

He could hear Mr. Keene’s exclamation of “what the hell is going on in there?” and he saw the others sitting at their desks staring at him wide-eyed. Footsteps were approaching again, so Richie did the first thing he could think of and ducked beneath Eddie’s desk. He was panting quietly, so he covered his mouth with his hand and saw Mr. Keene’s feet as he barged in again.

“What was that noise?” He asked, voice loud as he demanded an answer from each of them.

“What noise?” Mike asked, getting Mr. Keene’s attention on him instead of anyone else.

“What noise?” Mr. Keene mocked. “You know what noise!”

“I’m afraid we don’t, sir,” Ben spoke up then.

“No, I haven’t h-heard anything,” Bill agreed.

Mr. Keene looked at each one of them.

“Mr. Uris,” he pointed Stan out. “What is going on in here?”

Stan swallowed hard and looked around the room then up at Mr. Keene with a shake of his head.

“Nothing, sir. We’ve been doing what you asked,” Stan answered, his voice a little higher than usual because of nerves.

“Mr. Kaspbrak,” Mr. Keene turned to Eddie instead. He could feel Richie against his legs, his breath warming the spot right above his knee, and his fingers tracing small circles on to Eddie’s leg. He cleared his throat, knowing he was blushing because of how hot his cheeks were.

“Yes?” He asked quietly, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as he felt.

“What was that noise?” Mr. Keene spoke softly, but Eddie didn’t dare be fooled by it. He knew Mr. Keene was out for blood.

“I didn’t hear a noise,” Eddie said, tangling his fingers into Richie’s curls and tugging as a warning. He felt the breathe on his knee stop for a second, and his lips curled up at his small victory.

Mr. Keene eyed them all suspiciously, but walked out after another moment. Eddie immediately pushed his chair back and glared at Richie. He couldn’t stay mad for long, not with Richie smiling so sweetly.

“Eds! Did you miss me?” He asked.

“Not at all,” Eddie responded, though he knew he was lying. “And don’t call me Eds.”

“Why? Do you like Eddie Spaghetti better?” Richie asked, lifting himself up into the seat beside Eddie again.

“Not even close.”

“I hate to interrupt your little reunion,” Beverly spoke up. “But can we smoke this thing yet?” She had the joint in one hand and her lighter in the other. A chorus of agreements answered her question, so she lit it. “Richie,” she said, holding it out for him. He stood up and walked over, lifting himself up onto her table before he took it. “You get the first hit. You know, since it’s your weed and all.”

Richie grinned and leaned over to kiss the top of her head

_(Eddie’s heart didn’t stutter at that -- it didn’t)_

before he was wrapping his lips around it and inhaling slowly and then he blew the smoke out past his lips and Eddie could have watched that for  _hours._

“Come on, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie said, gesturing for Eddie to come over there and join them. Beverly sat in her chair, Ben in the seat on the other side of the table, Stan and Bill moved to sit on the floor and Mike joined them there. They formed an uneven little circle and all that was missing was Eddie. “We can even shotgun it if you want,” Richie said playfully. Beverly giggled, putting her head down on the table to hide her wide grin. Eddie blushed because he couldn’t help it and it seemed like he was missing something important.

“What’s shotgunning?” He asked. Richie raised a brow, looked over at Ben, then looked at Eddie.

“Come here and I’ll show you.”

Eddie swallowed hard but stood up anyway, walking over and standing between where Ben and Mike were seated. That wasn’t close enough, it seemed, because Richie crooked a finger at him to come closer. He reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Eddie’s wrist to pull him close until the boy was standing between his legs. Their height difference was a little smaller because Richie was seated, so it was easier to do this.

“Don’t panic, okay?” Richie asked, his voice soft. He waited for Eddie to nod before he was taking another hit and then --

The hand that had been on Eddie’s wrist moved to his chin instead, directing their parted lips over each other. They barely touched -- feather light -- but it was enough for every nerve ending in Eddie’s body to be set on fire. Then Richie was breathing his smoke into Eddie’s mouth and Eddie could hear Beverly say, “inhale, Eddie,” and he was listening to her and it was filling his lungs and --

They separated.

Eddie breathed out, the smoke blowing back at Richie who laughed lightly and swatted it away.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asked, passing the joint over to Beverly who muttered out a “fucking finally,” but he didn’t pay any attention to her.

Eddie shook his head and felt Richie’s hand on his lower back, allowing him to pull the smaller boy closer to him.

“Holy shit,” he heard Stan mumble behind him, and he could only imagine what was running through everyone else’s minds.

“Holy shit is right,” Bill agreed, taking the blunt when it was passed to him.

They did that for a while, passing it around and each taking a hit from it. There had been no more shotgunning, but Eddie smoked on his own. They eventually all ended up in a circle on the floor, Stan and Bill sitting close enough that they were practically on top of each other, Ben beside them, then Mike, then Eddie with his head on Richie’s shoulder and his legs on top of his, then Beverly beside them.

Eddie shook his head when Mike tried to pass to him again, so Richie took it instead. His jean jacket was sitting on the table, leaving Richie in a short sleeved black t-shirt. Eddie was playing with the silver chain around Richie’s neck, feeling calmer than he ever had before. The anxiousness that resides in his chest almost constantly was gone for the first time in a long time.

“I like this,” he murmured softly, looking at it with a sort of curiosity. “Is it just a triangle?”

“Mm,” Richie hummed, blowing out smoke and passing it. “It’s an arrowhead,” he corrected gently. His arm was wrapped loosely around Eddie’s waist, thumb brushing against his hip.

“Oh,” Eddie giggled, letting the chain fall against Richie’s chest again. “I knew that. I like it.”

“You’ve mentioned that,” Richie chuckled, looking down at Eddie.

Eddie didn’t notice Richie looking at him, too busy looking at Stan and Bill, who were talking quietly to one another. He could hear their quiet laughter every so often, and it made him smile.

“So,” Beverly started once the joint was too small to keep smoking. “What did you do to end up here?”

She was talking to Eddie, he realized when he saw her looking at him.

“Me?” He asked anyway, pointing a finger to his chest.

“Yes, you, Eddie. What did you do to end up here?” She giggled.

“I skipped class,” he hummed with a frown. “Mr. Lewis is… an asshole,” he decided. He could feel Richie moving and when he looked up, he saw he was nodding.

“Agreed,” he muttered. “Can’t keep his fucking mouth shut about shit he’s got no business knowing.”

Eddie nodded this time.

“He’s homophobic,” he said quietly, looking down at Richie’s other hand that was laying in his lap. He really wanted to hold it.

“He used to m-make fun of my st-stutter,” Bill admitted.

“Yeah,” Eddie said quietly. “So I skipped his class, uh… all week. Because he said something on Monday to me and I didn’t want to see him.” He let that sink in for a second before he looked at Beverly. “What did you do to get here?”

Beverly looked around and giggled again. Eddie didn’t think he’d ever heard her laugh as much as she had in the last little while.

“I got caught smoking in the bathroom,” she answered. “And here I am, in detention, high as fuck. This is too good,” she laughed. “Stan, baby, why are you here?” She asked then, turning her attention over to him.

“Oh,” he breathed, clearing his throat and blushing lightly at the attention on him. Bill grabbed Stan’s hand and squeezed reassuringly, and Stan looked up at him with a grateful little smile. “I… I’d rather not say,” he whispered. “It’s a long story and I’m not nearly high enough to tell it.” Beverly nodded in understanding and so did Mike, who was on the other side of the circle.

“Michael,” Beverly said, grinning over at him. “Your turn.”

Mike looked at Eddie, then looked down and Richie swore that maybe he was blushing, but he couldn’t be sure.

“I know what Mike did,” Eddie sang, giggling quietly afterward.

“You do?” Mike asked, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

Eddie nodded his head and reached over to give Mike’s hand a little squeeze.

“I do. Thank you.”

Richie cleared his throat because he wanted Eddie’s attention back on him -- thank you very much.

“Can we know what happened?” He asked, looking down at Eddie, who looked at Mike for the okay. Mike nodded his head, and Eddie started from the very beginning.

“I’m in Mr. Lewis’s class with Mike,” he began. “On Monday, he asked me a question and I didn’t know the answer, so he told me -” he cut himself off and swallowed thickly. “He basically called me a fairy and a girly boy and told me I’d never do anything productive with my life because I’m gay.” He glanced around for everyone’s reaction. While he was sure they could tell he wasn’t totally straight, this was his first time saying it out loud to this group of people. “He said it was my mom’s fault and that by giving me all those pills when I was younger, she made me sick.”

Richie tugged Eddie closer, kissing the top of his head because he knew how hard it was for Eddie to tell this story.

“What does this have to do with Mike?” Ben asked, not unkindly. Eddie laughed lightly and looked at Mike.

“I left to go to the bathroom and didn’t come back until after the bell rang so that I could get my stuff. When I… When I got there, I heard Mike yelling at Mr. Lewis for what he said.” His eyes filled with tears as he thought about what had happened, and he looked over at Mike again. “I didn’t go to class the rest of the week, but -” he sniffled and wiped away the tear that slid down his cheek. “But I thought about it all the time. Nobody’s ever stood up for me like that.”

Mike also looked like he might cry. He didn’t know that Eddie had heard him; he just stayed after to talk to Mr. Lewis because he knew his words had hurt him. He had just wanted to do the right thing.

“Damn,” Bill mumbled, looking down at Stan. “I think he might have me beat for the best earned detention in history.”

Stan leaned up and kissed Bill’s cheek.

“You’ve got a close second,” he assured, and Bill smiled proudly.

Eddie looked up at Richie and raised a brow.

“Was that close enough?” He whispered, now talking about how Stan had kissed Bill’s cheek. Richie thought about it before he shook his head.

“Nope. It’s gotta be on the lips.”

Eddie groaned.

After that, they knew they needed something to lighten the mood a little since that conversation had turned a little sad.

Ben was a hero, in Eddie’s eyes, because it was him that spoke up next.

“I wish I played an instrument,” he said, brows furrowed as he thought about it. “I don’t really have a talent like that, but I wish I did.”

“I play piano,” Stan voiced, smiling over at Ben. “I can teach you a few things if you’d like,” he offered. Ben’s face lit up in a way that made Eddie smile wide.

“Really? That’d be awesome,” he smiled.

“I play guitar,” Mike said. “And I sing a little bit. I write music sometimes,” he smiled. Eddie sat up so he could look at him properly, ignoring Richie’s little whine at the loss of warmth. Richie’s hand stayed on his back when he sat up.

“Really?” He asked, eyes widening. “I’ve always wanted to play guitar. I can’t write music for shit, though.”

“It’s like writing poetry, right?” Ben asked, looking at Mike, who nodded. “See, I can do that, but the whole putting it to music thing is where things get kinda hard.”

“Maybe I can help you with something sometime. You should show me some of those poems you write,” Mike smiled kindly.

“I, uh…” Eddie trailed off and blushed lightly. “I play ukulele.”

Richie snorted from beside him, and Beverly leaned up with her elbows on her knees.

“Do you really?” She asked excitedly. When Eddie nodded, she squealed. “That’s so cute!” she reached out to pinch his cheek gently. “I can just imagine you in your little sweaters out in a field playing your ukulele. Eddie’s just the cutest, isn’t he?” She turned to ask Ben. Ben nodded.

“Why didn’t you just learn guitar?” Richie asked, and Eddie turned to look at him as he shrugged.

“I don’t know. I liked the pure sound of a ukulele… it’s quiet, but it’s so pretty,” he said softly.

Richie wanted to say how adorable he found the thought of Eddie playing his ukulele. He thought that Eddie might look even prettier with a flower tucked behind his ear while he strummed at his tiny instrument, but nothing came out.

Eddie frowned at that, but he turned to face the rest of the group anyway.

“What about you, Bev?” He asked, looking over at her.

“Oh, I don’t really do much. I paint sometimes, I guess. My dad used to teach me,” she smiled, and so did Eddie.

“I’ve always wanted to draw. I could never figure out how to make things look right, though,” he admitted softly.

“It’s a lot of practice,” she huffed, shaking her head.

“Hey,” Bill spoke up, interrupting their conversation. “What’s gonna happen on Monday?” He seemed almost nervous to ask, and Eddie couldn’t blame him. They had gotten along well today, but they all ran in totally different crowds. Would they remain friends on Monday?

“Nothing,” Richie answered almost immediately. Eddie turned around, frowning deeply. “Nothing happens. Beverly goes back to her popular little friends, Stan goes back to the mathletes or whatever, Mike goes back to the jocks, and I go back to being no one.” He shrugged a shoulder, then looked at Eddie. “That’s just how things go.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Eddie protested.

“Yeah,” Beverly piped in. “I mean, I’ll still say hi to you guys… I’d like to hang out some other time. I’ve had fun today.”

They all nodded their agreements, but Richie just scoffed.

“You’re telling me that if Stan came up to you and your friends and said hi to you, you’d say hi back? Sure, maybe you would, but the second he walked away, you’d be laughing with your friends, talking about how weird he is or something,” he said. “And Mike, what if Eddie walked up to you when you were with some buddies from the football team? I’ve heard what they say about him. Would you say hi to him, or would you join in with them?”

“Hey, I’m not like that, and you know it,” Mike said, glaring at Richie. “I won’t make fun of him just because they’d think it was funny.”

“Hi, I’m still here,” Eddie said shakily. “No need to talk about me like I’m not.”

Mike sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“There’s no reason why we can’t all hang out. I mean, Richie and Eddie, you two are practically attached at the hip. You’re telling me you can go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist after today? Bill and Stan, same for you. Ben, you’ve already made plans with Stan to learn piano and with me to write a song. Beverly, you and Eddie have the potential to be such amazing friends. Same for you and Richie.” He turned his attention back to Richie. “I don’t understand why you have to be so negative.”

“I’m not being negative; I’m being realistic,” Richie sighed.

“Besides, I’m stuck here for at least the next month on Saturdays. You guys might be able to hang out, but I won’t. So what I said stands true, at least for me.”

“You can’t possibly believe that’s true,” Eddie said, bottom lip poked out slightly. “Friday nights, Saturday nights, Sunday,” he started. “Every day at lunch, in between classes.” He counted off the options on his fingers. “Saturdays are not the only time we can hang out. We like having you around, believe it or not, so we’ll make time.”

“You guys can always come to my games,” Mike invited. “We can go get something to eat afterward or something.”

Eddie nodded his head, then looked at Richie again.

“See? We’ll make it work.”

Richie sighed, but eventually nodded his head.

“None of you ever asked what my secret talent was,” he mumbled, though his tone was playful.

“Alright, Richie, what’s your secret talent?” Eddie asked.

“I do Voices sometimes. You know, impressions.”

Eddie gasped in excitement, practically bouncing in his spot.

“Really? Do me!” He said, and Richie laughed.

“Funny, that’s what your mom said last night,” He said. Eddie rolled his eyes and shoved Richie’s shoulder, but Richie didn’t give him any time to reply before he burst into the Voice of Pancho Vanilla, and the group dissolved into giggles.

This was good. It was easy being with them, Eddie decided. He never had to worry about what to say or what they would think of him because he knew that if anyone was going to accept him, it would be them.

They had less than two hours left, and still, they grew ever closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos assure Richie he's good enough.  
> Your comments play ukulele with Eddie.


	5. v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are...  
> The very end.  
> Thank you to ALL OF YOU who have read, loved, and commented on this fic. This is my very first finished fic and I'm not totally sure how to feel about it.  
> Stay tuned, babies. I'll be back with more.

Within an hour, none of them were very high anymore. The weed hadn’t been too terribly strong and they had all gotten up a while before to wander around the library. Ben had gone to sift through the books, Richie had taken a seat in the librarian’s chair behind the counter and made himself at home, Eddie and Mike had made their way over to the old record player and were digging through the box of records to see if they had anything good, Bev and Bill were playing a game with a deck of cards they’d found tucked away in one of the shelves, and Stan was bent over a clean sheet of paper, outlining the ideas he’d had as he was coming down from his first high.

He glanced around at the other kids in the library and smiled fondly. He supposed that his first -- and hopefully only -- detention hadn’t been that bad. He had made good friends despite their rough start.

Richie had a hard exterior, that was true, but looking at him now, laughing at one of the records Eddie held up for him to see, Stan would never have guessed that he was known as a bad kid. Richie had taken the fall for them numerous times throughout the day, and that was something that Stan never saw coming. He thought maybe he was just misunderstood.

Eddie, soft as he was, could stand up for his friends. Yes, he was soft-spoken, but Stan had seen him stand up for Richie more times today than he’d ever even heard Eddie speak. He was anxious, but he cared so deeply about the people around him. He had been the first to comfort Stan after Richie had snapped on him. Stan thought that maybe Eddie was one of the strongest people he knew.

Mike had surprised Stan most of all. He didn’t talk much at first, but he didn’t hesitate to come stand up for Stan. After hearing how he’d come to be in detention with them, Stan gained so much respect for Mike, even more than he already had. He couldn’t imagine doing all that Mike did while remaining so level-headed all of the time. Mike was a miracle.

Beverly was not the princess Stan thought she was. He didn’t think he’d ever been more wrong when it came to that. She did have a lot of friends, and she did care about her appearance, but she hurt deep in her heart, he could tell. She smoked cigarettes, she cussed, she stood up for him, and she made everyone feel welcome in this room despite the fact that no one had wanted to be here. She was like fire, he thought, to match her hair.

Bill, sweet Bill, had swept Stan off of his feet. Stan had gotten to know him throughout the day, and he was so grateful that this detention had granted him that opportunity. He knew he would never have had it otherwise. Bill had been through more than anyone he knew, but he overcame it all. Through his little brother’s disappearance, being bullied for his stutter, and trying to please his parents who sometimes only seemed to care about Georgie, he remained a ray of sunshine. Stan respected that, and he only hoped he and Bill remained friends after today.

Ben hadn’t spoken much during the day, and Stan suspected that he was nervous to since he obviously had a crush on Beverly. He was a romantic, he could tell, and he had admitted he liked to write poems. Stan didn’t have the chance to get as close to him as he did with Eddie and Bill, but he hoped he got the chance another day. He hoped things worked out for Ben and Beverly because he thought they’d be a cute couple. Ben was a surprise, from what Stan did know, and he hoped he never lost that individuality. 

Stan couldn’t explain what had changed within himself but something did. Something shifted at some point during the day. Maybe it was when he and Bill had been sent out on their own and he’d bucked up enough courage to start up a conversation, or maybe it was when he had smoked with a group of kids he hardly knew, or maybe it was when he and Eddie bonded at the back table. There was no telling, but something inside of him had changed, and he didn’t think it was a bad thing.

 

\----

 

“Shit,” Richie said as he looked at the clock. They had just under an hour until their detention was over, and he wasn’t even supposed to be in the library. “I’ve gotta get back.”

They had moved back to the tables, but they sat together instead of all spread apart. Richie and Eddie sat at one table, then Bill and Stan at another. Mike pulled a chair up to their table and sat facing them, chatting about something or another, and Ben and Beverly had their own table.

Eddie gave Richie a small smile and Richie did the same back before he was standing up. He walked between the tables, heading toward the back doors. He hoped that he could make it down to the janitor’s closet before Mr. Keene realized he was gone.

“Hey, Richie?” Stan spoke up, not moving from his seat as he looked up at the boy. Could he call him a friend? He wasn’t sure. Richie paused and looked down at him. “Do you really think birds are stupid?” He asked.

Richie chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Stan’s blond curls. 

“Nah,” he answered easily. “I was just being a dick.” Stan smiled and so did he. “Maybe you could tell me more about them sometime.”

Stan nodded his head. Richie continued walking, turning around when he was about halfway out and giving a two-fingered salute to the group still sitting. Then he turned and walked out.

Eddie sighed softly, staring at the closed doors for a while after.

“Okay,” Beverly spoke up. “Are you gonna sit there and stare after him like some kind of lovesick puppy or are you gonna get up and do something about it?”

Eddie looked at her and furrowed his brows, head tilting just slightly.

“What?” He asked, cheeks a light pink once again.

“You heard me. You let him walk away without even saying bye,” she said, not moving her eyes away from Eddie, which made him shift in his seat. It was an intense moment for him, and he didn’t know what to think.

“Eddie,” Stan said. Eddie looked back at his friend. “You should go.” He smiled and nodded his head once. 

“I should?” He asked, and both Stan and Beverly nodded.

“You should,” Beverly responded.

“I should,” Eddie whispered. His voice was quieter than before but he almost sounded more determined. “But what do I say?”

“Don’t stress about it,” Stan said then. “I didn’t stress when Bill and I had to go by ourselves, and I mean… I’ve got a date tonight.” He blushed, and Eddie swore Bill’s smile was so wide he was going to burst at the seams soon enough.

“You do?” Eddie asked, looking between the two of them. “This is going to sound like a weird question, but which one of you asked the other?”

“I did,” Bill answered, moving his hand to lace his fingers with Stan’s. “Would’ve been waiting forever for this one to do s-something,” he joked lightly, and Stan laughed quietly.

“I gotta go down there,” Eddie decided. He had to go down there even if only to tell Richie that he’d won the bet. He didn’t even know what Richie wanted if he won. He stood up, glanced at the clock, then down at his watch. “I’ll be back in half an hour tops. If Mr. Keene comes in here, just… cover for me.”

With that being said, Eddie walked out of the library and realized he didn’t have a fucking clue where Richie was. He looked down at his watch again and promised he’d only look for five minutes before heading back to the library. 

So he walked up and down hallways, whisper-yelling Richie’s name as he went. He went upstairs first, then he went back to the floor he’d started on and down to the basement. There were hardly any lights on and it sent a chill down his spine at how eerily quiet it was down there.

“Richie?” He said, walking down the single hallway down there.

“Eds?” He heard Richie’s voice say. He went back the way he came, stopping in front of a closed door.

“Richie,” he said just to make sure, and when he heard the soft “yeah, it’s me,” he unlocked the door and stepped in. “Oh,” he laughed nervously. “Not a lot of room in here, is there?” There was room for them to have space between their standing bodies, but not a lot of it. They stood practically pressed up against each other anyway. There was no way they could both sit on the floor, not with Richie’s long legs.

“What are you doing down here?” Richie asked, his hands immediately finding Eddie’s.

“I don’t fucking know,” Eddie breathed, giggling quietly. Richie couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble if you get caught,” Richie said, but he didn’t complain too much. His knuckles brushed gently against Eddie’s cheek, and his breath caught in his throat when Eddie leaned into the touch.

“Well, if I get another detention, you’ll be here to keep me company,” he hummed, blinking up at Richie, who chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Oh, you won the bet, by the way,” he mentioned.

“Did I?” Richie asked, raising a brow. 

“Mhm. You never told me what you wanted if you won,” he pointed out, and Richie smiled. His thumb brushed over Eddie’s cheek once more. 

“I didn’t,” Richie agreed, leaning down just a little bit more until their noses nudged against each other. He could hear the soft intake of breath as Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed, but he paused. He stayed there for a second longer before his own eyes closed and he was leaning down to press their lips together. 

It was just that. It was a soft, innocent kiss down their in the janitor’s closet. Eddie’s first ever, and Richie’s first that meant something.

That was how they spent the rest of their time down there, kissing and giggling and whispering to each other. When Eddie pulled away and said he had to get going, Richie pulled him in for one more kiss before he finally let him go.

“Wait,” he said before Eddie could walk out the door. He reached behind his neck and unclasped his necklace, holding it out for Eddie to take. After taking it, he ran a thumb over the arrowhead and smiled at Richie.

“Cheesy,” he teased softly, though he fully intended to put it on as soon as he walked out.

“I know you didn’t win the bet, but I think I’d like to take you out for ice cream anyway,” Richie said, and Eddie couldn’t help but smile because he was  _ blushing. _

“Are you asking me out on a date, Tozier?” He asked, and Richie had to look down as his cheeks turned even redder.

“Might be,” he mumbled. Eddie took a step closer and kissed him once more.

“Of course I’ll go on a date with you, you asshole.”

When he went back to the library wearing a stupid grin on his lips and a new silver necklace, Beverly and Stan gave him knowing smiles but didn’t say anything.

_ Mr. Keene, _

Stan rode double on Silver with Bill, Richie walked Eddie home, Mike’s girlfriend Vanessa was waiting for him outside, and Beverly kissed Ben on the cheek before he got into his mother’s car.

_ When we first walked in here today, we saw each other as you see us. We saw each other as a stereotype, a label, in the simplest terms and most convenient of definitions. _

The next Monday, they all ate lunch together despite the fact that they had other groups they used to sit with. Ben and Mike wrote their song together, Beverly and Richie smoked out behind the school together every day, Bill and Stan were sweet as ever, and Eddie wore his necklace every day without fail. 

_ We cannot tell you who we think we are, because the truth is that we don’t know. _

They hung out at the quarry sometimes. Richie learned how to skip rocks, Ben taught them how to build a proper dam, and in many ways, they all got their childhoods back for just a little while.

_ You can’t place us in a little box, Mr. Keene, and we refuse to do that to ourselves. We do, however, thank you.  _

Every Saturday for the next month, Eddie would pass the time by hanging out with the others, but at 3:00pm, he could be found standing outside of the school waiting for Richie. Every week, without fail, he would be there. And every week, without fail, Richie would come down the stairs, wrap his arm around Eddie’s waist, and kiss him like he hadn’t seen him in years.

_ Without you, we would not have learned that every one of us has a little bit of rebel, princess, nerd, athlete, and basket case tucked inside of us. _

That Friday and every Friday after that, if they all sat together and cheered Mike on at the football game, well,

_ Thank you, Mr. Keene. _

It was only natural.

_ Sincerely, _

_ The Losers Club _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos cheer Mike on at his game.  
> Your comments wait for Richie at the bottom of the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: greywatertrashmouth


End file.
